


Bewitched Amnesia

by treasurefaerie



Category: Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare, Shadowhunters (TV), The Mortal Instruments (Movies)
Genre: Confused Alec, M/M, Memory Loss, Pitied Magnus, Sad Magnus, Sad Magnus Bane
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-15
Updated: 2016-09-15
Packaged: 2018-08-15 03:43:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8041234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/treasurefaerie/pseuds/treasurefaerie
Summary: Alec gets mortally injured while fighting a demon and loses his memory of everything after Clary comes into the shadowhunter daily life, including Magnus.





	Bewitched Amnesia

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first story on AO3, so please leave your opinions below! If this gets a good response, I'll try to regularly post chapters. So please leave some comments on your thoughts!!

Silence. That’s all he heard. Despite the noises of people rushing by, occasionally murmuring their worries to him and giving him glances full of sympathy. The old warlock said nothing. He sat alone in front of a bed occupied by a some-what younger boy however you couldn’t tell the age difference- not until you looked in the warlock’s catlike eyes and saw the experience in them. The nephilim boy laid on the bed with no such movements except a constant rise and fall of his chest. It was all the warlock had to hope that his shadowhunter would open his eyes and show his bright blue eyes. Oh his eyes, the warlock thought solemnly, those beautiful blue eyes that showed so much, he had prayed and prayed to the angel Raziel that he would see those eyes shine with life once more. That the angel would know it wasn’t the shadowhunter’s time to leave this world, that he deserved so much more life. The powerful warlock for once in his life felt helpless- almost as if he was falling, endlessly falling into a hole of dread.

It was then that another shadowhunter boy walked into the room, it was so quiet that the warlock didn’t even notice it until the nephilim spoke, “Com’on Magnus, we all want to be here for him too, but he would want you to be taking care of yourself- not just sitting here and wasting away.” The blonde boy’s words were harsh but ever so true that the warlock didn’t want to listen, didn’t want to leave the bedside of the boy with strange tattoos covering his arms and collarbone. Jace, otherwise known as the blonde one to the warlock and the parabatai to the sleeping boy let out a troubled sigh about to speak once more, 

“Magnus-”

The warlock cut him off, sharply turning his head and narrowing his eyes at the shadowhunter about to let out a rude comment before noticing the state that Jace was in as well. His eyes softened as he looked over at Jace before standing and giving one last look over at the injured nephilim and promptly walked out of the room. Not before murmuring to Jace, “Watch him.” The older warlock spoke so seriously but even Jace could see that he was just trying to keep a strong cover, “I’ll be in the kitchen.” He continued and his eyes narrowed on the Jace and murmured one last thing before stalking out of the room.

“If anything happens, you better tell me or I swear shadowhunter that..”

The warlock’s words died out not knowing exactly what to say in his state of mind, but Jace nodded nonetheless knowing what the warlock meant. It had left the warlock wandering the halls of the Institute, his eyes drooping with sleep although his body denied him the right to rest or well his mind did. His thoughts raced helplessly from his injured shadowhunter to his guilt for not being able to do anything about it. It was all too much for the old warlock as he collapsed against a wall in the hallway. His knees curling up into his body as a rack of sobs escaped his mouth, he was alone now. The one who would usually be there to comfort him was almost non-existent laying in that bed with slow breaths and eyes closed. It was imperative that the warlock didn’t loose hope, but he couldn’t help but think what if? The warlock knew with his age and experience that people die all the time, but it couldn’t have been his time. He could barely think of his name without letting out a silent sob, tears streaming down his face.

Alec.

That was his name. The name of the shadowhunter that broke all of his rules, yet the warlock didn’t seem to mind at all. In fact, he loved it. He loved Alec, or Alexander as he called him so frequently instead of his nickname. Oh his Alexander, he thought with a final sob and shook off his thoughts. He needed to be strong for his love, the warlock couldn’t give up hope yet.

Rubbing his eyes off slowly, making sure to rid his eyes of the evidence of tears. However his eyes still showed signs of being watery and the warlock’s age almost started to show more clearly in his eyes. He stood up promptly and turned both ways in the hallway unsure of where to go, but shook his head to himself. Alexander was always the way to go, he thought softly. The warlock would follow that shadowhunter everywhere, it was the price of love and he didn’t care one bit. He started to walk back to the infirmary where he knew his true love lay, but he stopped in his footsteps as the warlock heard muffled sobs coming from what he assumed to be the kitchen. The warlock scrunched his eyes in confusion as he walked into the Institute's kitchen. His eyes then widened as the warlock recognized the crying figure sitting at the table.

Maryse Lightwood.

It was Alexander’s mother. She had somewhat grown to accept his and the warlock’s relationship for what it had grown to be. Relationship, yes. That’s what the shadowhunter and the warlock had together. Love. He wasn’t quite sure what to do in this situation. Maryse had always shown herself to be poised and to not have any weaknesses- or at least where downworlders were concerned. She had once believed in the termination of most downworlders, but the warlock knew for now that the older shadowhunter would do no harm. He knocked the wooden panel of doorway, letting his presence known to Maryse. Her head snapped up quickly as her eyes narrowed on the warlock, her eyes still shining with water from her tears. The usually harsh older shadowhunter had almost stood up slowly, before the warlock gave her a look- almost a ‘It’s ok, we’re all struggling here’ and Maryse sat back down in her seat. It was true, no matter how much that Maryse had her reservations about the warlock and Alec, that he loved Alexander to a fault. It was almost a shock to the warlock at her actions, her nephilim reflexes had slowed and all that’s left was a mother full of sadness. He had never seen her like this. The Lightwoods had always made sure to keep their composure in front of him and to show a united front, although he knew the truth. The arguments and fights of the Lightwoods were no secret to him, for Alexander had trusted him enough to be able to talk freely with the warlock. That was a shocking experience in its own.

“What do you want warlo-” Maryse cut herself off, before clearing her throat and looking back up at him who had now sat down across from her. It had been a habit of Maryse’s to address by warlock, but she had begun refraining herself from doing that for Alec’s sake. His eyes softened as the warlock analyzed Maryse, she was in pain- just like him.

“You’re not alone in this Maryse.” He spoke firmly but his tone was soft with understanding. “We all care for him.” The warlock continued as he saw Maryse’s resolve starting to fold. That high wall she built was falling brick by brick apart as her son lay almost lifelessly in the infirmary. Maryse looked up with a sudden exasperation and spoke harshly.

“Than why aren’t you helping him Magnus?”

Her tears almost dissolving as she found an output to her pain. The warlock would accept this, let it be, he deserved it, or so he thought. All the warlock wanted to do was storm into that infirmary and heal his Alexander, but no. It was impossible. There was too much of a risk if he tried to heal Alec himself and would be damned if he was the one to kill Alexander. The young shadowhunter boy had to heal on his own, let the iratzes do their work, let the angel blood flowing through his veins do their work. He had to pray that Raziel would do him justice, that the angel would know it’s not Alec’s time to leave this Earth. Not at all. “I tried Maryse,” He paused, a desperation almost in tone as he pleaded his words to the Lightwood, “Anything more I do could just injure him more.” The warlock murmured his last words in exasperation. He couldn’t do anything until Alexander woke up and he better wake up or else he wasn’t sure what he would do. It was bad enough for him knowing that his soulmate was laying in sleep and unrest right around the corner and he couldn’t do a damn thing. Maryse scoffed, eyes in disbelief at the warlock and her next words hurt.

“Than why are you even here? If you can’t help him, how do you even deserve my son?”  
The warlock tried to brush off Maryse’s harsh words, but they stung. Her words retreating to the darkest part of his mind- the worst part. It was where all of his insecurities lie in wait for him to become vulnerable once before they attack. He opened his mouth to speak, but stopped himself. It was an unusual sight to see. The once witty and glamorous warlock was almost speechless as he let the words consume him. His mouth opened to speak before a loud rushing of steps came down the hall and both the warlock and Maryse looked toward the doorway. It was Jace, “He’s awake!” The blonde haired boy exclaimed.


End file.
